


Working Vacation

by Bre95611



Category: Good Omens (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Fluff, M/M, guys i'm so bad at tagging, only one bed!, trope-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 16:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre95611/pseuds/Bre95611
Summary: When Dean hears news of some trouble over seas, he and Cas take a working vacation to see what's going on!





	Working Vacation

“Crazy sightings, weather all over the place. I dunno man, Ketch really wanted us to check it out. Don’t understand why the limey bastard couldn’t do it himself, but you know, free vacation? I’ve never been overseas, thought it might be fun. Whadda ya say, buddy? Wanna tag along?”

“Of course, Dean. When would you like to leave? I’ve never been on an airplane before. I’m quite intrigued.”

“I’ve got a flight booked for tomorrow. I’m not too jazzed about the flying, but Rowena whipped me up a little something that is supposed to take the edge off. You might be stuck entertaining yourself, though, so I hope you’ll be okay with that.”

“Dean, I’ve watched over Earth for millenia, before humans were created. I’ll be fine.”

\--

When they finally reached Tadfield, Dean couldn’t help but fall in love with the quaint little town. It was beautiful, greenery everywhere, cobblestone streets, cottage-like houses with lush gardens, and flowers everywhere you looked. It was the epitome of the apple pie life. He snuck a peek at Cas from the corner of his eye. He was smiling, and Dean couldn’t control the corners of his mouth as they began turning up at seeing his best friend so happy.

“From what Ketch told us, it reminds me of the young anti-Christ. Do you remember him, Dean?”

Dean laughed, “You mean the one that turned you into an action figure? Oh yeah. What was his name again? Uh...Jesse, right?”

“Yes,” Cas groaned, “him. Looking back, I’m very glad you didn’t allow me to kill him. I hope he is doing well.”

“Yeah, me too.” They came upon a little cottage and Dean pulled out his phone to double check the address. “This is the place. God, what kind of name is  _ Anathema Device _ , anyway?”

“A perfectly good one, thank you.”

Dean and Castiel turned around at the unfamiliar voice to see a young woman, long dark hair, perfectly round glasses, and a dress that seemed out of date, but suited her all the same. Her hands were full with a sack of groceries, and she shifted them quickly to one hip and extended her right hand to Dean.

“Arthur said you would be arriving soon. I’m Anathema. Are you Dean or Castiel?”

Dean took her hand and shook, “Dean Winchester. Let me help you out there.” He grabbed the bag from her so she could shake hands with Cas. They followed behind her as she went through the garden gate and into the cottage. Dean set down the bag of produce on the table sitting in the middle of the kitchen and took a seat, Cas joining him as Anathema piddled around the kitchen putting away all she bought at the store.

“So I suppose you’re here about the Apocalypse. I told Arthur there was really nothing to worry about! Newt disarmed the nuclear weapons, and Adam, Mr. Fell, and Mr. Crowley took care of Satan. Well, mostly Adam, really. Agnes had some other prophecies, but it didn’t really seem worth it to keep them. I spent my whole life following them, and-”\

“Wait,” Dean cut in, “back up. The Apocalypse? Capital ‘A’, End-of-the-World, Apocalypse?”

Castiel had focused more on the who. “Adam...Winchester? He should be in Hell still. And Crowley died a couple years ago. Dean,” he shifted in his seat to speak quietly to his partner, “I don’t believe this woman knows what she is talking about. We already averted the Apocalypse. Quite a few times actually.”

Anathema froze where she was putting a bag of apples into a drawer of her fridge. She turned around to level Dean with an incredulous look.

“Arthur said you two knew what all was going on? Right. Let me start some tea, and I’ll get you two caught up.”

\---

“Jesus, Cas, does any of this make sense to you? Cause I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. Satan and Lucifer are different people? Is our Lucifer the same Lucifer? And there are two Crowleys? We killed off all the Horsemen years ago, so it can’t be the same. And how the hell would some damn kids be able to take them on anyway? None of this makes any sense. I should call Sam, figure out what-” 

“Dean!” 

“What Cas?”

“We are here. This is our room.”

“Oh.”

They were standing in the hallway of a more...upscale hotel than Dean was accustomed. He had allowed Ketch to take over the booking for him, considering technically, they were out here as a favor to the British Men of Letters. Or what was left of them, at least. Dean pulled the key card out of his pocket and opened the door.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Fuckin’ Ketch.” Dean dropped his duffel in the entryway before Cas could even take a step in the door. “I’ll go back down to reception and get this fixed. Hold on a sec, Cas, don’t get too comfy.” Dean turned around to head out of the room before Castiel had a chance to move out of the way, running into him, pressing them chest to chest. Dean’s breath was pulled out of him and a blush rose to his cheeks at the close contact with his best friend.  _ This _ is why they needed to get the room fixed. He couldn’t be that close to Cas all night. He’d never survive.

“Dean, are you okay? I don’t understand what the problem is.” Cas finally got a chance to look into the room. It seemed like every other room they had stayed in together, although much nicer. And  _ cleaner.  _ Which he is sure Dean couldn’t possibly object to considering his slight germaphobia. Then Cas understood. There was only one bed.

“Dean, are you concerned about the bed? I don’t mind it.” Castiel had his hands resting on Dean’s forearms where he had kept them from falling, but at the mention of the bed, Dean pulled them out of his grasp quickly, and the lovely blush returned to his cheeks.

“We’re grown ass men, Cas. We’re not sharing a bed. I’m sure Ketch was just trying to cut costs, but I’ll show him. I’m going.”

Dean stepped around Cas, heading down the hall to reception. Cas sighed, and stood there, as Dean had instructed.

"I'll just wait here then."

\---

“Booked up, my ass. This place is massive. I bet Ketch told them not to let us trade rooms. God, when I get my hands on that fish and chips asshole…”

“Dean? Can I come in now?” Castiel had been faithfully standing at the door to their room for roughly 15 minutes while Dean had unsuccessfully charmed and then even more unsuccessfully threatened the kind woman working the front desk of the hotel into giving them a room with 2 beds.

“Shit, Cas, of course. Sorry, buddy, looks like were going to have to make do. We shouldn’t be here for more than a couple nights, so I’ll take the couch first.” Dean moved to begin getting ready for the night, throwing a pillow and blanket onto the couch and grabbing his worn leather toiletries bag to brush his teeth before he turned in.

Castiel prepared himself for bed while Dean was in the bathroom. He was pulling on his shirt, when he heard a sharp inhale behind him. He turned around.

“Dean, what’s wrong?” He finished pulling his shirt down. Dean’s mouth was open, and there was a pink tint to his face. He quickly cleared his throat and turned towards the couch.

“Nothing, sorry. I’m gonna hit the hay. We’re supposed to meet those guys in the morning. One of them has a bookshop near here. So...night, I guess.” Dean hit the lights and climbed onto the couch, leaving Castiel to fend for themself. He couldn’t get the sight of him out of his mind. He closed his eyes, shut as tight as possible and willed it away, but it was still seared into his eyelids, Castiel’s tanned torso, shirt rucked up, back muscles rippling as he pulled on the sleep shirt. And  _ God _ when he turned around and caught a glimpse of his stomach, Dean really thought he might have a heart attack. This trip was going to be  _ terrible _ .

\---

Castiel thought the book shop of Mr. A. Z. Fell was lovely. He could feel the care that was taken in the procurement of every copy stacked in the corner building. They were running a little late for their appointment. Dean had happened upon a Bentley parked out front, and it just  _ had _ to be appreciated, as he had said.

“Cas, it’s in mint condition!” he had fawned. “She’s absolutely  _ beautiful _ . Don’t tell Baby I said that though. She’d never forgive me.”

They were waiting in the back room of the book shop, surrounded by old tomes and scrolls. Castiel was flipping through the pages of an old collection of prophecies when they were joined by two men.

Mr. Fell was dressed in varying shades of cream, smart in his vest and waistcoat with a large tartan bow tie. His hair was short, curly, white blonde, the entire ensemble throwing him in stark contrast to the other gentleman, Mr. Crowley. He was dressed in solid black: jeans, boots, shirt, vest, and jacket. He even had round black sunglasses on. The only color he had was his bright red hair, and the velvet underside of his turned up jacket collar.

Dean leaned over to Cas, speaking in a whispered laugh, “You know who wears sunglasses inside, Cas.”

Cas tilted his head to the side, not understanding the reference in the slightest. Dean just shook his head, unable to explain the joke now that the butt of it was directly in front of them.

The blonde spoke first in a sophisticated, lilting accent. “You must be Dean and Castiel from America! How good to meet you both!” Excitement and happiness drenched every word he spoke, and a kind smile seemed a permanent fixture on his face. “I’m Aziraphale, and this is my… associate, Anthony J. Crowley. What can we do for you?”

While Aziraphale was all smiles, Crowley was everything but. He had a permanent grimace on his face, stood like you couldn’t pay him enough to care about anything, and seemed as dark as his clothing. His hands were buried in his front pockets, a hip slung out to the side. 

“Oh, come off it, Angel, you know what that one is. This isn’t your run of the mill house call.” He gestured to Castiel, setting him and Dean on edge. Aziraphale hardly looked phased, almost pleased. He started distractedly moving about the room, grabbing glasses from seemingly nowhere and a bottle of wine from nothing and turned, offering Dean and Castiel a hefty glass of wine each.

“Please, please, do drink up! I saved this for special occasions such as this. Crowley, my dear, will you please make sure the sign says we’re closed? I do believe this will take a while.”

\---

Several hours later, and Castiel could still barely believe what he had heard. Aziraphale had taken to calling him Brother, Crowley was slouching so deeply into the couch that he might as well be laying down, and Dean seemed to be drinking from a never ending glass of wine.

“It’s all been years in the making of course, lots of planning, but we had it all taken care of! Really nothing to worry about here, Brother! Although it is quite lovely to have a fellow angel here to visit! Tell me more about your Gabriel! He seems like much more fun than the one I had to deal with.” Aziraphale spoke almost conspiratorially, as if even the slightest bad mouthing of Heaven would see him smote where he sat.

"No no no, you can't just drop all that on us like it's nothing! Let me get this straight. You're an angel," Dean gestured to Aziraphale, "but it's an entirely different set of angels? How the hell does that make any sense to you? Something isn't right here. We need to talk to that kid. Adam. Come on Cas. These guys are wasting our time. I call bullshit on the whole thing." Dean began to stand, stumbling just slightly in his inebriated state. Cas quickly rose to offer a supportive hand that Dean quickly brushed off.

"Dean wait. They aren't lying. I can tell. Or have you forgotten? Aziraphale is indeed an angel. And Crowley is definitely a demon. Can't you see his eyes?"

"Of course I can't! The douchebag hasn't taken off his damn sunglasses since they walked in here. How does this make sense to you, Cas? Come on." Dean stormed out of the back room, obviously set on leaving. Cas breathed out a heavy sigh and turned to the angel and demon sitting across from him.

"Please forgive him. We'll be right back." Cas turned and followed Dean out to the front room, grabbing Dean's arm before he could get too far, and began trying to talk some sense into his partner. Aziraphale and Crowley looked on with delight and not-quite-indifference, respectively.

"Oh, dear, isn't this lovely?" Aziraphale crooned.

Crowley turned towards him, a small smile beginning to pull at the corner of his lips “Did you miracle their wine glasses to stay full? Not worried about Heaven’s audits anymore, now, are you?"

“We’re our own side now, Crowley. Of course I’m not worried about the  _ audits.  _ Besides, this one is at least for a good reason!” 

“And what reason would that be?”

"Why Crowley, can't you feel it?"

"Feel what, Angel?"

" _ Love _ **, ** my dear. It’s pouring off the both of them in waves.” Crowley reached over and grabbed the glass from Aziraphale’s hand, setting it to the side. Slowly, cautiously intertwining their fingers, Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer to him on the couch. “Might I  _ tempt _ you to help these two fools realize it? I don’t believe they have 6,000 years.”

Crowley took his glasses off and looked his Angel in the eyes, seeing the love and hope there, the same love for humanity and hope for happiness that made him fall for him in the first place, all those years ago in the Garden. He pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, feeling his face burn red while he did it.

“Temptation accomplished.”

\---

Cas had explained the concept of multiple universes to Dean as best as he could on multiple occasions following Jack’s birth. Unfortunately, there was a good bit of it he would never understand himself, let alone be able to  _ explain _ it to someone else. When you get into multiple universes existing at the same moment in time and space as the other? Completely above Cas’s paygrade.

“Well, all those other religions have their gods and heavens too, maybe this is just a different version of Christianity? It’s the closest I can get to wrapping my head around all this. Like, you’re a Baptist angel, and that Aziraphale guy is, I dunno, Catholic?” Dean had been pacing through the front of the bookshop since Cas managed to calm him down enough to have him stay put.

“That is plausible, although I’m not sure about those denominations. The end of the world has many names throughout religion. Perhaps this was more Armageddon than Apocalypse?” Castiel’s eyes tracked Dean’s movements, back and forth across the floor. 

“Best explanation we’ve got now. Maybe when we get back home we can have Sam and Jack dig into the archives, see if anything comes up that might make this whole situation stop giving me a headache.” Dean finally stopped moving. He looked at Cas as if unsure or unprepared for the answer to his next question. He dropped his voice and stepped closer.

“What about his eyes? Are they black? I don’t know how I feel about a demon.”

Castiel paused and thought over how best to describe them to Dean. “I think you would find them to be quite reminiscent of a serpent. I would hazard a guess that he was the serpent in the Garden. Aziraphale did say they met there.”

“Oh shit. That’s kind of cool. I mean, doesn’t necessarily mean demon, but definitely not human,” Dean resumed his pacing. Castiel was starting to get nauseous watching him walk back and forth, back and forth.

“Dean!” He couldn’t take it any longer, “Please stop moving. We should go back, talk to them. Make sure there is no chance for anything else to happen here. If their Gabriel or… Beelzebub, I believe, make moves to restart Armageddon, then we need to be proactively fighting against it, and make sure they have a way to contact us to help. You were also quite rude earlier.”

Dean rolled his eyes hard enough to pull something. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go play nice. Then we’re going to find a pub. I need a drink after all this bullshit.” He dragged a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away the disbelief and stress from the day.

\---

Crowley and Aziraphale were huddled together when Dean walked back into the room, Castiel hot on his heels. Dean tried to breathe through the wine-drunk feeling, but all that did was drown him in Cas’s scent. Cleansing. Electric. The calm before the storm. Dean swears he only had the one glass. He shouldn’t be this intoxicated already. Maybe he was going soft in his old age. Maybe that demon is pulling a trick on him. Dean almost stumbled when he walked into the room, the moment seeming too intimate and too innocent all at once. He swore he saw the two holding hands. But there’s no way, right? An angel and a demon? That’s even crazier than and angel and a hum--no. Dean couldn’t allow himself to go down that road. Especially an unknowable amount of drinks in.

Crowley turned away grabbing his glasses from the end table, smoothly sliding them back on. “Well, gents, you get it all sorted? We have some reservations. You’re welcome to join us if you like.” Crowley and Aziraphale stood and began leaving without even waiting to see if Dean and Cas planned on joining. They followed the two gentlemen out the front of the shop, right up to the Bentley Dean had been admiring earlier.

“Oh no. No. Who’s fuckin’ car is this? Crowley?” A smirk played on the demons lips at Dean’s obvious excitement at the car.

“It is. Hope you two like Queen.” Crowley was irreverent, but Aziraphale could hear how precise that tone was. The ride to the Ritz consisted mostly of Dean asking questions about the cars upkeep, followed by blind agreement from Crowley. The Bentley was just...always good? Crowley had never worried about it before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

They arrived at the Ritz, and proceeded mostly with small talk. Dean and Castiel tried briefly here and there to bring back up the goings on of the Apocalypse and how it was averted, but they steered it from that quite easily every time. They both had switched to liquor while Crowley and Aziraphle stuck with their customary wine, sipping slowly as the Americans powered through theirs, a combination of their vacation and the weight of the news from earlier in the day undoubtedly weighing heavy on their shoulders. Crowley and Aziraphale doing some miracle work didn't help, keeping the glasses full no matter how many ounces Dean and Castiel swallowed.

A couple hours later, they all went their separate ways. Dean passed along their phone numbers, just in case anything happened that might require their assistance in the future, and bid them farewell. Crowley had been kind enough to drop off the two very intoxicated gentleman back off at their hotel, before wishing them a delightful evening. Aziraphale could barely contain his laughter. It was woefully obvious how in love they were, and he was amazed they couldn't tell! Once they were out of the car and on their way inside, he took Crowley's hand once again.

"Thank you, my dear," he breathed, barely audible over Freddie's voice coming through the Bentley's speakers. 

"What for, Angel?" Crowley had pulled away from the hotel and was making his way back to the bookshop.

"Helping me with them. I'm quite sure they never would have figured it out on their own."

"Well, I'm quite glad  _we_ finally figured it out."

\---

Dean was leaning heavily on Cas as they walked down the hallway to their room. He swore he hadn't had all that much to drink, but here he was. Absolutely sloshed. Despite Castiel's angelic tolerance, he seemed pretty worse for wear too. Still better off than Dean. They stumbled up to the door, Dean's arm thrown around Cas's shoulder, Cas's arm around Dean's waist. Dean fumbled for his wallet to pull out the key card. 

"Goddammit, how many drinks I have, Cas? I ain't been this many sheets to the wind in a bit." Dean slurred. Cas grabbed the key card from his hands and smoothly unlocked the door.

"Aren't you drunk?" He asked, incredulous that it was _that_ simple to get the door unlocked. Cas shifted Dean's weight to the door frame for him, shutting the door once they had both made it through still upright.

"I didn't have as much as you did, Dean. I am intoxicated though. And quite ready to lie down." With his grace weakened since it had been taken and subsequently restored, sleep wasn't necessarily required, but Castiel had grown to enjoy the act of rest. And in a state of inebriation such as this, rest was definitely welcome, if not needed.

"I'll take the couch again, buddy. I can sleep just 'bout anywhere, ya know." Dean began to push away from the door towards the couch when he noticed the couch  _ was gone _ .

"Dean, you take the bed. I insist. I don't need to sleep." Castiel could sense the distress Dean felt at noticing the couch's absence. Pink began to color his cheeks at the prospect of them sharing the bed. Cas quickly squashed those feelings. He knew Dean was uncomfortable with that, knew the man he was in love with didnt want that level of intimacy, sure he didn't return Castiel's feelings. But he couldn't ignore his drunken hopefulness, his  _ want _ that just maybe, Dean might feel the same.

Dean turned, too quickly for his current lack of balance.

"No!" He practically shouted. Cas moved to his side quickly to help steady him. "I mean, um, it's fine. Its, uh, it's just one night, yeah?" He tried to seem calm and sure, but he couldn't tell if it actually came across that way. Dean didn't understand why they would have taken the couch out of the room, but he didn't care. He was just drunk enough to be brave and go after his best friend, the angel that pulled him from hell, gave up an army and all of heaven for him, the man he's been in love with since the moment they met in that barn all those years ago.

Dean stared into Cas’s eyes. He could feel his skin burning where Cas’s arms were still around Dean, supporting him from his near fall. Cas flicked his eyes down to Dean’s lips so quickly he couldn’t be sure if he had really seen it happen or not. He wet his lips on a reflexive response, the thought that maybe, just  _ maybe _ , Cas wanted this too sending a shiver down his spine. He felt like they were on a precipice, poised to dive head first into whatever this could be. His heart was nearly pounding out of his chest; he made a decision, toeing the edge of the cliff, destined to fall if he wasn’t careful.

_ Now or never _ , he thought.

And then he jumped.

  


Dean surged forward, pulling Cas to him with a hand tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. He felt struck by lightning when his lips pressed to Castiel’s, and he drowned himself in the sensation. Cas finally caught up to Dean’s intentions and returned the kiss with the fervor of a man finding water in the desert. His hands shifted to Dean’s waist, pulling them closer, chest to chest. They devoured each other, making up for every moment in the last decade that they could have been doing this, could have felt this connected to each other, creating an even more profound bond than they already had. They stumbled backwards, refusing to break the connection, insistent that they never part again.

They fell into bed together, and as Dean reveled in the feel of Cas’s hands on every inch of newly exposed skin, he began to hope that maybe it wouldn’t be just one night that they share a bed. Maybe it would be every night. Maybe they would get home to the bunker and move Castiel’s things into Dean’s room. That it would be  _ their  _ room.

“ _ Dean,”  _ Cas breathed out in rapture as Dean teased his earlobe with his teeth, gripping onto Dean’s hips as if he would float away if he let go. Dean pulled away and smirked up at him.

“Yeah, Cas?” He couldn’t help but tease him just a little. He had fantasized about this moment for so long, he felt he would disappear entirely if he lost himself in the feel of Cas on top of him, his teeth grazing over his collar bone, his fingers trailing further down Dean’s body.

Dean shuddered as Cas found the button on his jeans, popping it open and swiftly unzipping them. And then he froze, fingers hovering over the waistband of Dean’s boxers, as if unsure he was allowed to continue. He looked up at Dean, hair more of a wreck than usual, face flushed and lips swollen. There was a question in that gaze,  _ Do you really want this,  _ and Dean felt his heart skip a beat at the vulnerability he saw in his best friend at that moment. He brought his hands up to cup his face and pulled him in for a kiss. It was sweet and gentle, and Dean tried to convey every ounce of the love he felt for the man above him, tried to make him see how important he was and is and always will be. Dean wasn’t prepared for what came out of those perfectly chapped lips after he pulled away.

“I love you.”

Dean must have heard him wrong. Right? There is no way an  _ Angel of the freakin’ Lord  _ l oved him.

“Really?” Cas’s face softened at the confusion on Dean’s face.

“Since the moment I laid my hands on your soul in Hell, I knew. I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean was in awe. Cas really loved him! He surged forward for another kiss, their teeth nearly hitting because of the face splitting smiles on both of their faces. Dean started to laugh into the kiss, euphoria coursing through his body. He shifted his weight, rolling them over so he was straddling Cas’s hips.

“I love you, too, Cas.” He smiled softly down at the man that had saved him, his best friend, the love of his life. He let out a huff, “Guess it’s a good thing they took the couch outta here, huh?”

Cas looked away, a deep blush staining is cheeks. Dean tilted his head in a very Cas-like fashion.

“What is it?”

“I may have overheard Aziraphale and Crowley, um, plotting a little bit.” Dean still didn’t understand.

“What about? What does it have to do with the couch?”

“They discussed trying to get us together. Something about us not having 6000 years. I believe they performed a miracle to remove the couch and then encouraged us to drink more to lessen our inhibitions. I didn’t actually believe it would work, so I didn’t say anything. I apologize for misleading you.” Cas refused to meet Dean’s gaze, ashamed and embarrassed.

“Look at me,” Dean grabbed his chin, forcing them to make eye contact, “I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?”   


“Hell no! If anything, I think we need to send those two a damn fruit basket.” Cas still looked a little skeptical. Dean surged forward, to prove to him just how not angry he was. They didn’t do much talking for the rest of the night.

\---

The flight back home was uneventful, the only difference from the trip to London being the reassuring feel of Cas’s hand in Dean’s. They told Sam when they got back to the bunker, and it was a complete non-event. As they went about their lives, finally together, they noticed that nothing had really changed.

  


Except for now, every night, they shared a bed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Crossover Challenge from [CocklesDestiel Fanfiction](https://cocklesdestielfiction.tumblr.com).
> 
> Come follow me on [Tumblr](https://bre95611.tumblr.com/)!


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